The Tree Of Akpobrisi

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In the stillness of the morning, before the dark clouds allowed the sun to shine his face, a drizzle sought to augment the dew from the previous night, causing a slight cold to run through the village. Goats, lying in verandas, pressed against each other seeking what ever heat they could get from each other. They watched as a lone figure appeared from one end as they began chewing on their cud to pass the time. They continued chewing as as the lone figure hurry through the darkness.

The white wrapper slung across his body pressed against his skin as the raindrops smoothed the otherwise rough cloth. His feet muzzled their complaints after it became obvious that he didn’t care about their pain. They pressed against fine grain, sharp rocks and putrid mess but the figure continued. There was a resolve to his gait and a determination in his eyes.

Stray dogs watched the lone figure walk pass without paying attention to them. They sought to bark but hunger from the previous night advised them to conserve their strength. This figure had no interest in them, why should they take an interest in him?

The figure branched off the major road in the village, forcing his legs to struggle with the grasses and roots of low shrubs for space on the ground. His left hand swung with a joyous spring, grateful that the figure’s only burden was in the care of his right hand. His right hand, weighed down by the axe suffered alone in silence as if it wasn’t a part of the figure’s body.

The drizzle continued, as if bent on reaching every inch of the figure’s body. Between the figure’s legs, moisture accumulated, one drop at a time. The moisture clashed with the sweat, creating an itching sensation for the figure. His groin begged for the presence of his left hand; a slight brush was all it needed to ease the itch, but the figure paid no attention. He continued his pace, his mouth producing a stream of utterances that immediately got drenched by the drizzle as they escaped his lips.

The figure’s mouth continued to move until the mouth in his stomach decided to join in the incantations. It let out a rumble that seemed to shake the pot belly he dragged in front of him. For the first time, the figure felt tempted to break the stream of utterances his mouth produced. But to do so would make the mission futile. He needed to arrive at the right time and only the utterances assured him of that. He ignored the rumblings even as they echoed within him, forcing his gaze on the yellow mangoes that wooed from the trees around him.

He heard noises as he approached the outskirts of the village and knew he had to increase his pace. He did this, not for his sake but for theirs. Akpobrisi was a god given to vengeance. His mind replayed the admonitions and warning of Pa Obaro from the first day he had declared his intentions. Pa Obaro was a medicine man renowned far and wide for his ability to understand the gods in the Uhrobo Pantheon.

“Omoshare, you must always remember that Akpobrisi is a vengeful god. He will not allow an infraction on his home go unpunished. You must be very careful.” Pa Obaro had warned the evening before as they concluded the last rites of protection.

“I’ve heard you Pa Obaro. I will be very careful.”

“I hope you still remember what needs to be done and how to comport yourself. If anyone can come out alive of Akpobrisi’s abode, it is you, Omoshare. But you must leave nothing to chance. You have to always be in charge of the situation. Also, remember that it’s better you return empty-handed than attempt a face-off with Akpobrisi. No one wins a duel with Akpobrisi, not even the other gods.”

“Thank you Pa Oboro. But you know I can’t return empty-handed. If I do, what am I returning to? A great injustice has been done against me. My farmland has been destroyed by floods. My wife, who left me is now pregnant. Now, everyone knows I’m impotent. I am a man without a name, without respect. Oghene has punished me more than he has ever punished anyone. Death is a better alternative than returning empty-handed. I rather kill myself than endure the shame.”

Pa Oboro had given up the argument at that point. There was no dissuading Omoshare; he had made up his mind. Pa Oboro had told him all he knew about Akpobrisi, the vengeful, just and yet foolish god in the Uhrobo Pantheon.

Akpobrisi was one of the gods in the Uhrobo Pantheon. He was a vengeful god who dealt swiftly with his offenders. No one could appeal his judgements, not even Oghene. He was known to wreak havoc on the lives of those who he felt had wronged him.

There is a reason why Oghene, God and Creator of all didn’t interfere in the activities of Akpobrisi, no matter how severe he dealt with humans. Akpobrisi, although he resided among men, created a secluded spot for himself. His arboreal abode was a tall and majestic tree. This tree was surrounded by other equally majestic trees, although not as tall as the one he dwelt in. This trees served to indicated what the locals called Akpobrisi’s compound.

Akpobrisi’s compound was off limits to humans. He demanded to live in peace - peace meaning total isolation from humans. All those who had trespassed into his compound had either met instant death or died a few days after.

Akpobrisi was a just god. He never visited vengeance on those who did not wrong him. He sought out only those who had trespassed into his abode. But like other gods, Akpobrisi had his limitations. He was neither omnipresent or omniscient. Furthermore, before he sought vengeance on anyone, he had to announced his intentions in Heaven, in the presence of Oghene who always gave his permission.

Despite Akpobrisi’s reputation, mortals still took on the seemingly suicidal mission to Akpobrisi’s compound. The tree which served as Akpobrisi’s arboreal abode was said to possess magical powers. A small scrap of its bark was known to cure all known illnesses known to man. Medicine men claimed that a tiny piece of the tree’s bark would triple the efficacy of any herbal mixture or charm. As such, men who felt they had nothing to lose often embarked on the journey. Only a few men ever returned alive. Pa Obaro’s father was one of them and he had shared the secret with his son before his death. It was that secret that Omoshare depended on for the success of his mission.

Omoshare eyes traced the bones half buried in the soil and knew he had arrived at Akpobrisi’s compound. He flung his white wrapper aside, revealing his bare skin in the glare of the morning sun. He felt his heart beat war drums within and tried to reduce the tempo. Pa Obaro had told him not to run. Any mortal who fell in Akpobrisi’s compound will never stand up. He had to hope he would not have to confront Akpobrisi.

Omoshare steadied himself and charged his legs to begin his approach into Akpobrisi’s compound. He swerved around a tree and then another. He continued until the intimidating shadow of Akpobrisi’s above forced a gulp of fear down his throat. This was it; there was no going back.

Hack! Hack! Hack!

Pa Obaro has said no more than three strikes. Omoshare dropped the axe and pulled out the small piece his strikes had carved out for him. He turned at once and began his way out. A smile began to rise on his face as his legs broke into a trot eager to leave Akpobrisi’s compound before it was too late.

Akpobrisi woke up at the third strike. He looked beyond the tree and saw the mortal man peel a piece off the bark of his tree. He ascended into the heavens with anger fuelling his ascent. He presented himself before Oghene and reported the infraction. Oghene gave his consent and Akpobrisi returned to earth, with his heart set on vengeance.

He roamed around his compound, seeking the transgressor. There was no one around. He then move outside of the compound, ready to strike the first mortal he saw. He saw the lone figure of Omoshare walk without a care in the world. Omoshare hummed a song and swung his body to the happy sway of the tune.

Akpobrisi wanted to strike but withheld himself to reflect for a moment. The figure he had seen was naked but Omoshare had a white wrapper around him. The figure held an axe but Omoshare only had his right hand clenched. There was no axe in his hand. Akpobrisi told himself that the transgressor had escaped before he returned from the heavens. Perhaps it was one of the other gods who decided to play a prank on him.

Akpobrisi returned to his abode and a triumphant Omoshare began the long walk home with the bark secured in his palm, knowing prosperity, fame and fortune awaited him.